She kept her eyes closed as silence engulfed her. Not even the sound of his breathing. Then she felt him close. Too close. Her eyes flew open and she gazed into Ian’s stormy face.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She cringed. “I, uh, I thought we could help one another out.” Her mouth had gone dry, and she’d lost the ability to breathe.
An expression skittered across his face. Anger? Dismay? Disgust?
“Did you, now?” He stepped up to her, still within the boundaries of his own personal space. Barely. His eyes held hers, his a dark stormy gray, then he looked her up and down as if considering.
“Well, how do you feel about cunnilingus?” he asked, as he stepped outside his personal space and into hers, backing her up to the bookcase in the office, the shelf digging into her mid back.
Remembering how to breathe, she filled her lungs with a gasp. “What woman wouldn’t enjoy it?” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
He snorted. “Do you even know what it is?”
“Of course I know what it is. I’m not stupid.”
“No. You’re most definitely not stupid. Inexperienced, maybe. Stupid, no.”
Before she could sputter a response, he stepped further into her personal space, leaving mere inches between them. “How about fellatio?”
“Um, sure. Sex is give and take, isn’t it?”
“No. Not always. Sometimes it’s all take.” He skimmed a finger along her cheekbone. Stepping in a little closer, he asked, “How about if I put my hand here?” He placed his uninjured hand over her breast. “And my mouth here?” He pressed his tongue to the spot below her ear.
The air backed up in her lungs, her knees wobbled, and a heaviness settled between her legs. How could she be both afraid and aroused? No. Not afraid. Intimidated. This Ian was different. Dark. Yet unbearably sexy. But not frightening.
“I—”
The phone on the desk rang, once, twice.
“I—I have to get that.” Unsure he would move or that she would be able to budge him, she pressed her hands to his chest—his really, really hard chest—and he stepped aside, a smirk on his face.
“Saved by the bell, sweet Millie?”
Ian scrubbed his hand through his hair and strode into the living room. What the fuck was that all about? Damn, but he was pissed. Pissed that she would offer herself like that. And pissed at himself for backing her into a corner. Literally.
He’d meant to scare her. Warn her to stay away from him. Instead, he’d scared himself. The feel of her firm breast in his hand, the warm skin below her ear against his lips, had shot heat straight to his groin. Beneath those ridiculous clothes was a woman’s body, as he’d been discovering over the last few weeks.
He remembered her little panting breaths. The way her pulse beat like a hummingbird’s in her throat. The fire in her eyes when she believed he’d thought her stupid.
And what he thought were dull brown eyes, proved to be far from it. Those eyes glinted with golden sparks, lending them depth and warmth.
What the hell had he been thinking? He didn’t intimidate women. He didn’t back them into bookcases and put his hands on them. At least not without their permission.
What the hell had she been thinking? Offering herself to him like an object up for barter. Did she do that with other men? Did she think that was the only way they’d have sex with her?
And the sad thing was, he’d wanted to take her up on her offer. Right then and there, she’d turned him on with her fuck-me voice, and her little pants when he’d put his hands on her. After the encounter in the kitchen, his senses were on heightened alert.
Caleb was right. He needed to get laid. And soon.
Trouble was no one appealed to him. Except Millie in her brown schlumpy clothes and her too tidy bun.
He should check on her, but his inclination was to let it go. Maybe she wouldn’t bring it up again. Forget it ever happened. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t make deals with women for sex. Even if he did find her appealing. And the image of her naked and writhing beneath him made him hard enough to pound nails.
He strode toward the front door without a backward glance.
Millie watched as Ian left without so much as a goodbye. Angry, defeated and beyond aroused, she headed for the kitchen where Laura and Darcy were talking about the upcoming baby shower. She’d vowed she would never put herself out there again. Never open herself up for ridicule. But she had. And look what happened.
At least there wasn’t a cafeteria of witnesses this time.
Reaching out, she grabbed the glass of wine from Laura’s hand and took a gulp.
“Help yourself,” Laura said dryly as she took another glass from the cabinet and filled it with the red wine.
“Millie!” Darcy said. “You don’t drink.”
“Seems like a good time to start,” Millie retorted.
Laura snorted, lifted her glass in a toast and said, “In vino, veritas, then.”
Millie winced and took another slug. God, she hoped not! She’d be taking that little encounter with Ian to her grave. She only hoped he did the same. The wine spread a pleasant warmth down her throat and into her chest. Tasted pretty good, too. Like plums, and maybe some dark cherries.
“Careful there, lightweight,” Laura said with a smirk. “You’re supposed to savor wine, not drown your sorrows in it. That’s what tequila’s for.”
And why shouldn’t she drown her sorrows in it? She needed to drown them in something. Feeling a little floaty, Millie tossed back the remaining contents of the glass, and tried to slam the glass down on the countertop, but missed it altogether. The fact that she’d skipped lunch only added to the effects of the wine on her motor skills.
The room had lost all its edges, blending into soft lines and colors. From some distant place, she heard Laura snicker.
“Millie? Are you okay?” Darcy grasped her shoulders and stared into her eyes.
“Yes. No.” Millie couldn’t decide what she was. “Why?”
“Because you were weaving back and forth, and frankly it was making me seasick.”
Laura stepped up, stuck her hand in Millie’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
Millie tried to swat her hand out of the way, but missed. Twice. Dang Laura and her fast reflexes.
“She’s toasted,” Laura said, a smirk on her supermodel face.
“Ladies.” Josh walked in with Nathan on his heels. “You ready for dinner?”
“Hi ya, Josh. Nathan.” Millie thought she handled that pretty well considering the moving floor beneath her feet.
“Millie, what’s wrong?” Josh asked.
A funny noise came out of her mouth, a cross between a snort and a pfft. What’s wrong? Where should she start?
“Are you drunk?” Josh raised an eyebrow at Millie, then turned to Laura. “You let Millie get drunk?”
“Me? Why is it my fault?”
“You brought the wine.”
“How many has she had anyway?” Nathan asked, peering into her eyes.
“One glass,” someone said.
“One!” Nathan chuckled and shook his head.
Why is everyone talking about her as if she’s not there? Oh right. Because that’s how she wants it. She wants to be invisible. No, wait. Not anymore. Not since that delivery truck almost pancaked her. Not since Ian saved her from certain death. And held her against that hard body of his. That chick-magnet body. That body that had pushed her against the bookcase in the living room while he talked dirty to her. She shivered at the memory.
“Clearly, Millie is a cheap date,” Laura said.
Darcy, Laura, Nathan, and Josh all began speaking at once, bickering over something. Whatever. At least they weren’t
all staring at her like a bug under a microscope anymore.
Remembering the recent addition to her list, she took the phone from the cradle, and dialed Ian’s cell, determined to give him a piece of her mind.
“Brand,” Ian answered, his voice gruff.
“Listen here, you, you . . . thug. You think you can get me all hot and bothered and just leave?”
“Millie?” came Ian’s surprised voice. Just that sexy rasp had her nerves a-tingle. At least she thought it was her nerves. Could be she just needed to pee.
“Dang right, I mean, damn right, it’s Millie.”
“Millie! Who are you talking to?” Darcy asked with a laugh.
“You think you’re God’s gift. Well, I’m here to burst that burble, er, babble, er, oh, you know what I mean.”
“Give me the phone, Millie.” Josh held out his hand, and she put her back to him.
“You think you’re so hot. Well, you are. Wait, that’s not what I meant to say. Brain cramp.” She lifted her hand to her head and massaged her muddled brain.
“Come on, Millie, friends don’t let friends dial drunk.” Josh finally pried the receiver out of her hand. “This is Josh. Who is this?” He paused a moment. “Ian?”
Darcy’s hand flew to her throat, while Laura snickered.
“I like this Millie,” Laura said. “She should drink more often. Better than the Stick-Up-Her-Ass-Millie.”
Deflated, Millie slid down the wall until her butt hit the floor.
“Yeah, Millie had a tad over her limit. Sorry about that. Yeah, Nathan and I will see her home. No worries.”
No worries. Pfft. There were worries aplenty. But the topper—the numero uno—was how she’d ever look Ian Brand in the eye again.
Millie woke the next morning to the sound of sirens outside her window. Sitting up, she grabbed her head, afraid if she let go it might roll of her shoulders and across the floor. “Oh, God.”
Then she remembered. “Ugh. I guess I can cross getting drunk off my list.” At this point she was wondering why she’d ever put it on her list in the first place. “What was I thinking?”
Looking down, she realized she still wore the clothes she had on yesterday, and . . . she smacked her lips, her mouth tasted like she’d been licking the bottom of her shoe.
She rose from the bed and even the few steps it took to get to her kitchen might as well have been the last few steps to the summit of Mt. Everest.
Visions of being carried into her apartment flashed across her brain like lightning in a summer storm. But by whom? Mortified, she slid to the floor, her legs exhausted from their hike. Laying her head back against the cabinet, she closed her eyes, and wondered what else she’d done while under the influence.
Chapter 14
After letting herself in, Millie tiptoed across Darcy’s foyer. Later than usual, and dealing with a headache of massive proportions, she headed straight for the kitchen and the strong cup of tea she hadn’t had the energy to make at home.
Darcy had just put the kettle on. “Morning, sunshine.”
Millie groaned. “You’re up early and feeling chipper.”
“I’m not up early, you’re just late. And I’m finally over my morning sickness, at least I think I am.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Millie muttered, embarrassed by her tardiness and unprofessionalism.
“How are you feeling?” Darcy asked as she took cups out of the cupboard.
“Like someone forgot to bury me. Why did you let me drink so much?” She sank into a chair at the kitchen table, unable to do even the slightest thing to help Darcy make the tea.
Darcy barked out a laugh. At Millie’s wince, Darcy said, “Sorry.” Lowering her voice, she continued, “How many glasses do you think you had?”
“I don’t know. A few.”
“A few? Millie, you had one.” She held up her index finger for emphasis. “One glass of wine.”
“One?” Sighing, she put her head in her hands. “I really am a cheap date.”
“One of these days you’re going to have to tell me what brought that on.” Darcy took the kettle off just before the whistle.
Not. In. This. Lifetime. “How did I get home?”
“Nathan and Josh drove you home in Laura’s car.”
Perfect. It wasn’t enough that she’d humiliated herself in front of one man. No. She had to go and humiliate herself in front of two more.
That’s it. She would erase sex from her list. And alcohol. Because she was going to join a convent. Or an all-female commune. That way she would never humiliate herself in front of a man again.
“Drink this. Good strong English Breakfast Tea.” Darcy ran her hand across Millie’s back, soothing her, as she placed the cup of tea in front of her. Breathing in the steam, Millie’s headache receded a millimeter. “I’ll get you some aspirin.”
“Did I do anything . . . stupid last night?”
“Depends on your definition of ‘stupid.’” Darcy sat the bottle of aspirin in front of Millie and then sat across from her, a cup of tea in her hand.
Millie groaned. Maybe she could find work elsewhere. She’d make a good assistant for just about anyone. “What did I do?”
“You called Ian on his cell phone and said something about being bothered and leaving.”
Millie lowered her forehead to the table’s cool surface. That settles it. I have to find a new job.
“You want to tell me what’s going on between you and Ian?”
Millie jerked her head up and instantly regretted it. Holding her head in both hands, she said, “Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing going on between me and Ian.” And wasn’t that just the problem?
Ian had an unpleasant task to complete that morning. Rejecting Millie’s offer, as if his treatment of her weren’t enough. Ruby had taught him that if you get the unpleasant tasks done first thing, then you put them behind you and get on with your day. Problem was, he’d yet to lay eyes on Millie.
Darcy had said something about errands, so he’d have to put it off until she returned.
He thought about her inebriated phone call. She didn’t strike him as someone who imbibed. And, he knew the type. Very well. First his stepfather, then his mother to escape the hell of her marriage.
What the hell had possessed Millie to make a deal with him for sex and then get toasted and drunk dial him? Baffled, he turned his attention to installing the Winnie the Pooh outlet plates in the bathroom, now that the painting was completed. Tomorrow he would paint the closet doors and plantation shutters for the nursery.
The job was coming along nicely, on schedule despite Ruby’s illness. Too bad he couldn’t say the same for the Hawkins Hall RFP. This job was probably the most important of his career, and he’d have to tackle it without Ruby’s help. He realized now that he’d used her for a crutch for far too long. Now he may just pay the price by losing this bid.
At the end of the day, Ian pulled on his jacket and gloves, prepared for a particularly frigid ride home. A hot shower awaited him, and a beef stew he’d thrown together using the bachelor’s best friend, a slow cooker. Last week he’d made a kick-ass, smokin’ hot pot of chili that sustained him a few nights.
Millie had managed to elude him all day, so he still had that business hanging over his head. Going downstairs, he ran into the devil of which he spoke. Here goes nothing.
“Millie? You got a minute?”
She looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights.
Well, shit.
She nodded, biting her lip.
“About last night—”
“Forget it,” Millie muttered, her face aflame.
“Which part am I supposed to forget? The part where you offered a deal for sex? Or the part where you drunk dialed me?”
&
nbsp; “Both. Just forget both.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her.
“Millie, listen to me.” He kept his distance to avoid making her any more uncomfortable. “I appreciate your . . . offer, but I don’t barter for sex.” She stared down at her feet. “And you shouldn’t either. Jesus, Millie, I hope you don’t make a habit of that with the men you meet.”
Her gaze shot to his face, her mouth defiant, her eyes glittering. Good. He liked her better that way. Not cowed and embarrassed.
“No. I don’t. I just thought . . .”
“Well, don’t think like that.” At her continued silence, he sighed. “Look, can I give you a ride home?”
“No. I, uh, a friend is picking me up.”
He nodded. So she has other friends besides Darcy. That’s good. “You’re not going out drinking, are you? Do I need to shut off my phone?”
Her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile. “No.”
“Good. See you Monday.”
When did she get so good at lying? Millie wondered, as she walked the seven blocks to the subway. She didn’t have a friend picking her up. She’d take the subway home just like every other night, eat her microwave dinner, and curl up with a book. Or her manuscript. Alone.
“Be bold,” she muttered, drawing unwelcome attention from Darcy’s neighbor as he waited for his dog to do his business. Great plan. And look where that got me. Humiliated. Again.
Ian had been kind, but he’d made it perfectly clear he had no intention of having sex with her. And not only that, that he had no desire to either.
She’d clearly misjudged the kitchen encounter. More likely, she’d just imagined it. Wishful thinking, and all that.
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